


Random Dream Smp Prompts

by PinkkPrincee



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, No Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkkPrincee/pseuds/PinkkPrincee
Summary: this is basically something ill write in when i have an idea about a story but dont really, know what to do with it.
Kudos: 5





	Random Dream Smp Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically Tubbo having a panic attack and not knowing what to do because of how much work he has to do and the weight of the whole country on his shoulders. this is not what i think of tubbo, i think hes a great president and person, these are more of me projecting my thoughts during similar times onto him, comfort character y'know :]

It was a frozen night in New L'Manburg, with almost every resident already sleeping soundly, Quackity in his house, Wilbur in his sewer, fallen asleep after reading another one of the books in his library. There was one person awake though, the president, who'd stay up late every night to keep his country afloat. He would work nonstop, knowing this was the best for his country.

The frost radiating a chill in his room, freezing the boy's fingers slightly, but despite this, he kept working. He'd been working with Fundy with his new adoption, and helping Wilbur cope with it, not leaving enough time for himself. The next plan of action was to take down the obsidian wall Dream put up in a rage, due to Tommy. His grip on the pen he was using would not falter, seeming as if his hand had frozen around it. Outside his window were the lanterns Wilbur had made for Fundy, brightening up Tubbo's room, making it easier for him to see his work.

He looks up at the dimly lit sky, littered with small stars, and a crescent moon filling a portion of the dark canvas. Tubbo sighed and rested his chin on his hands before noticing that his cheeks were wet, why were they? Noting bad has happen since the 16th, so there was no reason to be crying. His chest began to feel tight, like he was getting stripped of air, so he places his hands on the upper part of his chest, trying to push breath down. He looked down at his work, trying to get his mind off of the breathing problem, but it only made him notice how his eyes were filled with tears, and how the paper below him had droplets of tears staining it. 

He holds his head in his hands, his palms right against his eyes, wetting them. He doesn't know what is wrong, it could be that he misses Wilbur, or that he has so much work to do, or even the idea of him not being suited for the job, and the country would be better without him. What if he just, blows it up just like wilbur, but that would ruin everything he's worked so hard for, everything he cares for. He doesn't think hes the right leader, and that tommy, or literally anybody else would fit the role a whole lot better. 

He brings his legs up to his chest, sobbing into his knees, feeling like he he needs to scream, but also feels like if he makes a single noise he'll die. He doesnt know what to do, theres nothing for him to fix this broken country, there's nothing for him to do. Hes so overwhelmed he cant stop crying, he can't do anything for this country, maybe if he ran away things would be better for him. All that could be heard from his room was very fast and heavy breathing, along with sobbing, eventually he'll pass out and have the nightmares again, the ones of him dying. He only has one life left, he has to make is last, but its hard when you're so overwhelmed.

The breath begins to feel thin, and Tubbo's vision begins to pan in and out, his head spinning in all different directions, but he doesn't care, hes too busy thinking about how badly he's messed things up. He stands up shakily, looking around his room, trying to walk to his bed, his body feeling heavy. He almost makes it to his bed when he falls down onto his knees, holding his head in his hands again, crying once again, fearing that he's in danger, from himself. He ends up crawling his way into his bed, a tear trail on the floor from his desk to the soft green sheets of his bed. When he gets onto his bed, he curls up and faces his wall, holding onto his head tightly, trying to block things out, thoughts and the sobs echoing in his room. He slowly starts breathing regularly, putting his face against a bee plush he keeps on his bed for comfort.

"W-what did i do w-wrong?" He whispers over and over again to himself, wondering what happened just now, thinking he did something wrong to cause a panic attack. 

Eventually the boy slowly gets to sleep, finally dreaming about something nice, of Tommy joking with him, playing with bees in a field, and all the people he cares about smiling at him. In this dream, the sun is shining and flowers are all around him, and he has a flower crown. This was the first night he had a good dream since he was killed during the festival. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, i kinda based this off of my own experiences so im sorry if it doesn't fit your experience, but i hope you enjoyed it none the less. Once again, nothing negative said is what i think of him, its his own thoughts here :[ thanks again for reading :]


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